


Let me take you when I go

by dragon_rider



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pining, Prison Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve made their beds and now they must lay in them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me take you when I go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: "Adam does a crime and goes to prison, Blake is his bunk mate. Guys give Adam a hard time, and one day Adam is taking a shower and gets raped (its so bad he needs stitches?) Alot of angst Adam please! Blake comforts him and helps him through it. Fluff and love sprouts! Please fit shevine smut in there somewhere."
> 
> @eating a barrel: sorry this took forever. also i don't think it's as angsty as it was supposed to be. i made zero research for this so yeah, i'm sorry.

He’s a little wisp of a thing, his new cell mate, with a tiny waist that will have unsavory stuff coming his way real fast in a place like this and a bright, nervous sheen in his eyes that tells Blake he’s never been in jail before in his life.

Blake’s never seen a six feet man look this _tiny_ and the tattoos that peek under the rolled sleeves of his overall do nothing to change that and neither do his slightly muscly frame that’s still lean and too damn inviting to the touch of men who won’t care he doesn’t have the right curves in the right places.

He’s pretty, there’s no other word to describe him, and Blake can already hear the muttering about him; the taunts, the vulgar jokes, the threats and promises the worst of the bunch here will throw his way whenever they can.

He already feels bad for the kid but he won’t warn him about showing his little butt outside their cell; fear will do him no favors in here and he looks scared enough as it is.

Somehow, his compassion still lives after five years behind bars and no visitors to make the time go faster.

He only hopes the little guy is strong enough to go through life in prison. It’s no walk in the park, not even for a man like Blake. In here, you miss everything you ever loved and everything you ever hated. It can drive you bat shit crazy real fast, if you’re not careful.

“Name’s Shelton, Blake Shelton,” he introduces himself, staring at the new inmate with his arms behind his head, his body loose and lazy on the bottom bunk of the prison cell.

“I’m, huh, I’m Adam,” he replies, unease clear as day in his tone, and boy—his voice is too high, even though it somehow suits him, “Adam Levine. I guess top bunk is mine.”

“All yours,” Blake drawls, wondering what’s a pretty thing like him doing in a jail in Oklahoma because he doesn’t sound like he’s from anywhere near here, that’s for sure, “So Adam, what’s your sin?”

He shrugs, climbing to his bunk to probably both get out of sight and out of the small questioning session Blake is submitting him to.

“You didn’t kill somebody,” he’s not asking, just thinking aloud. It’s been a long, long time since he’s had someone to talk to and he’ll take what he can get even it’s a tough crowd who don’t really wanna hear him or reply to anything he has to say, “You still got some light left in your eyes, I can see it.”

The springs from the mattress above him squeak as Adam squirms in obvious discomfort and there’s a beat that makes Blake think he’s gonna end up talking to himself, as usual, until Adam’s high voice reaches his ears again.

“You do too.”

“I’m no killer, but not for lack of trying, I promise you that,” he answers, fingers twitching in his hair and jaw clenching in anger.

It’s been so long but he still remembers how the blood felt drenching his hands and his arms, how hot and sticky it was on his face, and there’s still just the one thing he regrets about almost beating the life out of his best friend; letting him keep breathing just because his cheating wench of a wife begged him to.

Adam’s head pokes from above to blink curiously at him. He looks more at ease already and Blake smiles at him, glad he still got some of his southern charm in him; his twang’s never failed him to get in someone’s good graces.

“Let me guess,” Adam starts, shy but still impish enough to make Blake like his gall, “You shot your wife and some guy with a shotgun when you found them together in your bed but they made it.”

“Hmm,” Blake raises his eyebrows, “Close enough. Didn’t need no shotgun though, just my fists.”

He doesn’t correct Adam about Miranda because on some nights, he actually wishes he’d hurt her too, and that’s a crime all on its own in his book. She was his world, the reason he worked his ass off from sunrise to sundown in their farm every single day, and she’d been the most beautiful and kind woman he’d ever known even while she kept twisting the knife she’d stabbed his heart with, asking Blake to spare her lover’s life.

“I tried to rob this place,” Adam admits very quickly and very vaguely, not that Blake’s gonna hold any of that against him. He wouldn’t retell what he did and why, not even at gunpoint, “It went, like, really wrong. People got hurt. I got five years here, you?”

“Still five to go,” Blake says. Adam nods, still hanging upside down, and he looks so ridiculous it draws an actual belly laugh from him that surprises them both. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed for real, let alone why, “Come down, city boy, I don’t bite. You play cards?”

“That depends, you have cards?” Adam quips, jumping down his bunk to kneel on the floor beside Blake’s bed, and there’s that smug edge Blake liked again.

They spend that first night playing cards until it’s time to turn down the lights but they keep talking in hushed tones for the rest of it. Blake learns Adam got more time than what he actually deserved because he refused to betray his friends, the ones who were with him in the robbery and got away with no bounty but at least got away and served no time for it, and he’s more reluctant to be open in return but Adam doesn’t resent him or presses for more information than the nothing he’s giving.

It takes Adam a couple of days to chip the pieces of his pride that stopped him from using the potty in front of Blake to do number two and Blake decides to go easy on him, giving him his back as he lays down on his bunk. He knows how hard realizing both freedom and privacy have been stripped away from you can be and he won’t make it harder for Adam, he’s only ever been cruel to inmates that were cruel to him first and needed to be taught a lesson, and he doubts there’s a hair in the little guy’s head that’s capable of actually hurting somebody.

Blake tries really hard not to get attached to him, tries not to memorize the delicate curve of the fan of Adam’s long lashes shadowing the sharp lines of his cheekbones or the crooked way he smiles when he’s pleased after winning a hand or making Blake laugh again, but it’s no use.

He’s so lonely, he’s _been_ so lonely, that he can’t help but appreciate deep in his soul how refreshing and welcome Adam’s presence is, how his sense of humor awakes Blake’s after years of being dead and forgotten.

That he’s easy on the eyes is just icing on the cake.

***

“Is it true?” Adam asks out of the blue while he’s doing push-ups and Blake’s keeping busy scribbling something that is more poem than song without a guitar to strum down the notes playing in his mind to go with it.

He lifts his gaze from the page, watching the ink on Adam’s right shoulder honoring the town he’s from flexing along with his muscles.

What a guy from Los Angeles was doing stealing something all the way in Oklahoma, Blake’s not going to ask, especially since the nostalgia that always bleeds into Adam’s voice when he mentions his hometown hits a nerve in him, reminds him he doesn’t belong anywhere, not anymore.

His family has made damn sure he knows he’s not welcome anymore, that he won’t ever be not even when he’s paid his dues and is a free man again.

“What is, buddy?”

“That you’re friends with the warden,” Adam elaborates, doing one of his many pirouettes to look at Blake while he’s standing on his hands like he was born in a circus or something, “That he brings you stuff, you know, things.”

Blake snorts, closing the notebook and leaving the pen inside as he swings his legs to the side and sits to look at his cell mate. Both were gifts from Carson Daly, the warden that’s been around about as long as Blake has been in lockup, but they’re not friends. Daly is just smart enough to know having a six foot five wreck of a man won’t help him run his prison smoothly and he makes sure Blake has about as much as he can to keep his mind occupied.

He let Blake keep his harmonica too, even though he’s never actually played it here.

He doesn’t remember any tunes that weren’t meant for his wife, doubts he ever will.

“He won’t bring you cigarettes, if that’s what you’re asking,” Blake says and Adam goes on with his frenzied workout, moaning when the southerner apparently nails what he wanted, “There are people in here who can get you some but you’re not gonna like the price, I can tell you that much.”

Adam makes a face, stopping to wipe the sweat on his forehead as he supports his legs on the wall and keeps the rest of his weight on one arm, “Yeah, no shit. I’m not fucking blowing anybody for a smoke, no thanks.”

Blake pats him on the back awkwardly when Adam finally stops moving for a bit, sitting beside him to tap his foot on the ground and bite his nails so frantically Blake feels sorry for him and tries to distract him with a game of cards.

He’s only half successful, vows to snatch extra rations during meals from then on so Adam has something to chew that isn’t his own damn flesh.

***

It’s the fifth night they’ve been sharing a cell when Blake comes back from the showers to a melody he doesn’t recognize that is both sad and energetic, the notes blown in his own harmonica telling a story that makes his heart want to reach out and soothe.

Adam doesn’t stop playing as Daly opens the door to let Blake in and closes it behind him as if it weren’t too damn late to make noise. Blake hangs by the door, barely moving as music washes over him for the first time in what feels like forever.

Adam jumps when he’s done and finally seems to come out of his trance to realize he’s not alone anymore. He stares down at Blake, almost in dread, and sheepishly offers the harmonica back to him with a wary hand.

“I didn’t mean to go through your things, I’m sorry, man,” he explains hastily, “I was just cleaning and this fell from your pillow and I—I wanted—“

“C’mere,” Blake cuts in firmly, gritting his teeth as Adam hurries to comply and put his feet on the ground.

He holds Adam tight the second he’s within reach, nuzzling into his shoulder as he feels that he’s breathing for the first time in years. The little guy tenses at first but relaxes in his arms soon enough, hugging him back after he seems convinced Blake won’t beat him to a bloody pulp for touching what’s his.

“You didn’t tell me you’re a musician,” he remarks, a little accusing.

Adam smiles at him, and Blake’s been living in the dark for so long his eyes can just about make out the gentle glint in his hazel eyes, “You haven’t told me shit about you either, cowboy.”

Blake lets go of him slowly, reluctantly, fingers already twitching to grab the warmth and weight of Adam’s small body again. He asks Adam to play some more for him instead and Adam does, brushing Blake’s side as he sways with the music that seems vaguely familiar now.

“Is that a Nirvana song?” he asks, already knowing he must be very off the mark and confirming it when Adam practically flinches.

“Metallica,” Adam corrects him, like it hurt him Blake got it so wrong, “That was Metallica, seriously, Blake, geez. Do you own this just because, don’t you know anything about music?”

“Do you?” Blake tosses back, looking down at him playfully, “Name all the members from Alabama and I might believe you,” Adam splutters and Blake laughs, takes pity on him by changing the subject quickly, “Metallica’s fine but I liked the other one better.”

The smaller man ducks his head and shakes it in disbelief, “That was just me fooling around, man, don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean, I mean it!” Blake drawls, pulling Adam to his side again with an arm around his shoulders, “Play that song for me again, would you?”

Adam looks up at him with a smile, pressing the instrument to his lips with almost childish excitement.

They lie down on Blake’s bunk after Adam is done and he hums a couple of Alabama songs to him, to educate him or so he claims and if what he really wants is to keep Adam by his side just for a little longer that’s for him to know and for God to judge.

Adam snuggles against him, humming along with him on the chorus whenever he can guess them right enough.

It warms Blake’s heart so much he forgets they’re in prison, with crimes to pay for with time of their lives they won’t ever get back again.

***

Adam’s been spotted by everyone since day one. He looks vulnerable and worse yet, he’s naïve and cocky when he shouldn’t be, but Blake’s been doing his damnedest to help him keep a low profile despite of it.

He subtly makes sure he’s always with Adam during meals and recreational time, especially when they’re outside, knowing all the while he can’t be everywhere and that his new friend will need to watch his own hide eventually but choosing to forget about it for as long as he can. He’s been bitter for enough reasons and for long enough to add something else to the list.

It doesn’t make it any easier the night reality comes crashing down on them; Adam’s screaming pierces his ears and his heart, feels like it’s piercing his very soul and only gains volume and gets more high-pitched and desperate as it goes on.

It’s rotation time which means there are no guards to stop what’s going on and Blake’s been here long enough to know that depending on the particular guard, they wouldn’t do shit even if they were around to hear.

He sees Warden Daly running to the bathroom followed by four other guards a couple of minutes after Adam has finally quietened down and he grips the bars tightly, trying to stick his face out to maybe catch a glimpse of his friend.

Prison is no stranger to death, both self-inflicted and in the form of murder, but Blake is nowhere near ready to say goodbye to Adam, not like this.

He’s so little, so scrawny, that Blake is not sure how much he can survive and he regrets not protecting him more, not warning him when he had the chance.

He sits on his bunk, hands clasped in prayer for what feels like a lifetime, and for a long, long moment he wishes he hadn’t torn the rosary his mother sent to him to a thousand pieces.

***

The warden comes to visit him a little after dawn, looking grim and mighty pissed off and like he didn’t sleep a wink all night.

It makes two of them.

“Where is he?”

“In the infirmary,” Daly replies, standing outside the cell with his hands on his belt as Blake gets on his feet and mirrors his stance right inside, his hands clenching on his sides, “It’s bad. We had to bring in a surgeon from the hospital downtown to make sure there’d be no lasting damage.”

Blake knows better than to ask if he can go see Adam so he just lies back down on his bed and stares at the bunk above him.

He’s been so selfish despite Adam’s been nothing but giving and kind to him; he could’ve stopped this, he knows he could, if only he hadn’t been busy shielding his heart from damage it’s already endured a thousand times worse.

“Don’t let me out today,” it’s all he says to the warden, “Or I swear to God I will kill them all with my bare hands.”

“I put them in solitary confinement,” Daly informs him, “You won’t be seeing them for a long time, trust me.”

Blake sits menacingly all by his lonesome despite he’s fairly known and has no need for allies among the inmates and looks daggers at everyone for the three days it takes Adam to come back to their cell.

***

Adam wobbles down the hall. The other convicts call him names and catcall viciously as he’s led to the jail cell by Daly, who seems to be gripping his elbow more to help him hold his weight up than for anything else.

The warden has more heart than most people Blake’s met in his life but Adam doesn’t seem to know or care about that. He shakes the hand on his arm the second he can, tripping inside after throwing a nasty look around that is more wounded pup than furious pittbull.

He’s hesitant to get close to Adam at first but he’s glad he stands up and walks to him when his friend’s knees give out with no warning and he all but sags against Blake’s chest, fisting his orange overall like a lifeline as he cries a river of tears with quiet, almost soundless sobs wracking his tiny frame.

“I’m the prison’s bitch now, aren’t I?” Adam asks bitterly once he’s calmed down enough to speak, “They’ll never leave me alone and they’ll kill me if I—if I don’t let them—“

Adam cries for a long time and Blake holds him as tightly as he dares to comfort him, still amazed that the younger man can awaken instincts in him he thought were long gone; he’s gentle instead of forceful and when he has Adam in his arms the ghost of the blood staining his skin is nothing but a dull itch.

“I can’t stop them from saying whatever shit they want, Adam, but I sure as hell can stop them from touching you again if you let me,” he offers, heartfelt, and he’s not sure when he got used to the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach he gets every time Adam looks at him but he feels it acutely after the days they’ve been apart. 

It’s like he’s been drenched in ice cold water and told he must walk the plank and jump to the sharks now.

He thought he didn’t have any heart left to fall in love with, and yet here he is loving someone he’s known for little over a month.

Adam looks up at him, wide-eyed and hopeful and so open it hurts to look at him, the butterfly stitches around his right eye socket a stark reminder of what he went through that Blake doesn’t need, “How could you do that?”

They’re still kneeling on the floor and Blake is worried about his injuries, hoping whatever they had to fix with surgery and stitches won’t come loose.

“I’ve been here for five years, Adam,” he reveals and his friend jerks a little between his arms but doesn’t let go of him so Blake keeps holding him too, “I know how this place works. If I make them think you’re mine, they won’t come near you no matter how much they want you.”

He’s not the biggest man here but he can hold his ground no problem. Most inmates call him Big Country and trip over themselves to make room for him when he’s walking by, something about his size and his mysterious behavior giving everyone the impression he’s not to be messed with.

It also may or may not have to do with how he’s terrorized his last three bunk mates just because they were all assholes and how he makes a habit of being territorial, always using the same table in the mess hall and always sitting on the same bench at the backyard just to stare at everyone on the court until their napes prickle.

“Shelton’s crazy,” they say behind his back, “He’d hit his own mama if she pissed him off. Did you hear how he ripped his own best friend’s arm for laying his fingers on his wife?”

It’s exactly the kind of rep a man needs to live in prison for a long extend of time so Blake has never bothered to correct anybody; to be fair, he did almost leave Luke one-armed, and he still dreams with chopping his balls for daring to put his cock inside Blake’s wife.

He’s sure he would’ve if Miranda hadn’t stopped him.

“They can’t know I care about you, Adam, that’d make you a weakness of mine,” he explains, his twang a little too thick, “They have to think you’re my bitch. I won’t be nice or loving, that won’t keep you safe.”

Adam takes a moment to think about his proposal, looking up at him through his lashes several times as his eyes dart back and forth from something Blake can’t see. Judging by how Adam’s face pales and his breathing quickens for a moment, he’s willing to bet he’s reliving the worst of the incident and he grounds him to the present by cupping his unscathed cheek with a hand gently, just to let him know he’s there.

“Will you hurt me too?” Adam whispers, biting his lip not to sob even as Blake rushes to wipe the fresh tears streaming down his cheeks, “Because if you do, I think I’d rather die.”

Blake’s breath hitches and he shushes Adam quickly, leaning his forehead against his as he closes his eyes against the pain in his chest.

“They were like brothers to me and they—they left me behind,” Adam confessed one night from the safety of his bunk. Blake didn’t need to see his face to feel and understand the kind of betrayal he’d been through, “They just up and left without me when things went sideways but I still couldn’t rat them out, how fucking stupid is that?”

This isn’t the way he was hoping Adam would acknowledge their friendship but he’ll take it, he knows it’s all Adam has to give.

“Here,” he says, retrieving a small knife from the sole of his shoe that the guards have never been able to find on him and showing Adam the right way to finish him off with just one swing of the blade on his neck, “If I ever try to, you stop me with this.”

 _If I try and rape you_ , he doesn’t say but shows, _just kill me._

Adam takes the knife from his fingers slowly, like he’s scared Blake will change his mind and pocket it any second after cutting him with it, and they both hold their breaths until he finally grips it tight and nods.

He’s quick to get rid of it, hiding it under his pillow no doubt to sleep curled next to it all night, and he surprises Blake by going back to hug him tight, tucking his head under his chin.

“Okay,” he breathes, shaky.

 _I trust you_ , Blake hears clear as day, and Adam lets him go to climb stubbornly to his bunk despite Blake offers to sleep on the top one until he’s all healed up.

The younger man doesn’t let out one moan, not even a peep, but his breathing never evens out the way it’s supposed to with sleep.

It takes Blake a couple of nights but he learns to hear even the smallest of sobs coming from Adam’s bed.

It’s stupid and won’t help Adam any but he still stays awake to listen, crawling to the edge of his bunk to raise a hand up during the worst of Adam’s crying.

Adam never takes it but he does brush his fingertips against Blake’s, his breathing evening a little bit after he hiccups.

***

“You have to be convincing, Adam,” he repeats for the tenth time, a few days after Adam’s return from the infirmary. He can’t wait any longer, if he keeps waiting he risks someone else taking Adam against his will again, “If we don’t fake this right, we’re both screwed, you hear?”

“I heard you the last fifty times you’ve told me that too, asshole,” his friend cusses lowly, sliding to Blake’s bunk with the poise of a cat and looking up at him with his cheek resting on his pillow, eyes challenging, “Come here and fake-fuck me already.”

Blake is very thorough; he makes them both strip down to their underwear and wife beaters and covers their bodies with the sheets, only then giving Adam the okay to start with his part as he presses his hips to the mattress to recreate the telltale sound of good fucking, careful not to touch Adam anywhere near his groin and just push him down with his legs on his.

“Blake, no! Please, stop! _Stop_! It hurts, please! Blake!” Adam shrieks at first and Blake is very impressed, lets him go on for a few seconds to make sure they’ve caught enough attention from the other prisoners and then clasps his hand on Adam’s mouth.

Adam shudders and tries to push him off of him with everything he has so he’s more than certain it’s less acting and more flashback at this point but he can’t stop, not if he wants to keep Adam safe.

“Adam, open your eyes,” he murmurs in Adam’s ear, holding Adam’s arms down as gently as he can which isn’t much after the younger man backhands him a little too hard. He only has the one hand free but Adam’s wrists are ridiculously small for a man and he pins him down firmly, “Look at me, damn it!”

He lets Adam breathe then, keeping his palm close to his mouth in case Adam screams, but his friend just gasps and does as he’s told, looking up at him with damp eyes and giving him the go-ahead by wrapping his arms around Blake’s neck and beginning to produce little filthy faltering noises that Blake swears are close enough to a blushing virgin they’d fool even him if he wasn’t right there to know they’re not real.

Blake fakes an orgasm and deals with the actual thing in the corner, spilling into the toilet silently as Adam sobs quietly into his pillow after hurriedly climbing to his own bunk.

It’s a miracle, Blake thinks, that Adam still looks half his age when he’s asleep; young and innocent and small like he’s been made to remind Blake he’s still human.

***

Breakfast goes down exactly like Blake expects the next day.

Instead of simply allowing Adam to sit in front of him at his regular table, he keeps a possessive hand around his hips and flushes him to his side as they eat, groping Adam’s pert little butt when they stand to leave as he looks over his shoulder with every sliver of hatred he can muster.

Adam sits on his lap during basketball practice for a while, lets Blake nuzzle his neck and touch him everywhere before sprinting to play.

Blake sprawls on the bench, long legs reminding everyone of his size as he closes his arms and keeps his eyes fixed on the attractive young man leaping on the court.

When people try touching Adam the same way he’s touched him all day, he stands up and pushes people off of him, cracks his knuckles and is about to deliver some punches when the guards spot the blossoming fight and separate everyone.

Blake holds the warden’s gaze for a long moment, thinking he may have just landed his own ass in isolation and didn’t actually think this through, but Daly walks away with only a warning.

Adam presses his appealing body to his and Blake makes a show of kissing his sweaty neck as he glares promising all kinds of hell at anyone who as much as touches one hair on Adam’s pretty little head and that’s it, the rest of the game goes smoothly and so does the rest of the day.

***

“Thank you,” Adam tells him that night in a shuddering breath, letting Blake burrow into his shoulder briefly before ending the hug, “I don’t know what I’d do without you here to watch my back, man.”

They both do what would happen and they both know what Adam would do too.

They’ve made their beds and now they must lay in them but Blake is glad he’s able to make things a little bit easier for Adam.

***

 _He might never want me_ , Blake writes in his notebook, _but his trust feels better than any kiss could ever do._

The poem-lyrics he’s always scrawling go from dark and violent to sad and loving, just like that.

He never mentions the delicate line of Adam’s jaw or how endearingly squeaky his laugh turns after Blake tells a particularly good joke but he can feel it all in every word when he rereads them, can see the rich shade of brown-green-yellow Adam’s eyes are under the sun, and how the dark strands of his hair curl around the tips like they’re calling for Blake’s fingertips to straighten them with caresses, can remember Adam’s left dimple—his favorite, the deeper one—as truthfully as if it was his own.

***

Adam keeps playing the harmonica. He doesn’t come up with new melodies in a long, long time but Blake still likes the few ones he’s heard and enjoys his friend just making covers of some of his favorite songs.

He tries bribing Blake to play too, assuring him that now that he’s one of the cool kids on the block he can get Blake booze or whatever he wants, but can only make the southerner hum a song or two on a good night.

“Was this someone else’s?” Adam asks him one day, curious but not actually expecting any kind of answer, “Someone you loved? Was it your wife’s?”

Blake sighs, takes Adam’s hand to return the instrument to his lips as his friend sits on the floor in front of him and Blake slumps on his bed, letting the music Adam makes soothe wounds he thought would never stop stinging, “I only ever played for her.”

Adam looks at him, stunned for a moment since it’s the first time he’s gotten a straight answer from him, “You could play for me now,” he says, oblivious as always, “I’d listen.”

The thing is, Blake could.

He’s just too scared to.

***

They’re so alike in so many ways, him and Adam, alike in their bad luck and their loneliness and their willing to live past this, but they’re so different too Blake hardly ever gets bored these days.

There’s a big storm outside, bad enough to cause a tornado alert. No one cares, the snores and the variety of noises the same ones as every other night, but Adam hovers by their tiny window and stands in his tiptoes to stare at the lightning and gasp with every thunder.

Blake welcomes him in his arms with a grin, chuckling when Adam burrows closer as the thunder gets bad enough to rattle the window and the rain pouring almost with vengeance swallows every other sound except for the raging wind blowing.

“Blake, what if there’s a tornado?” Adam asks, raising his chin from his chest to look at him like Blake holds all the answers and can make up the rest, “Are we gonna die?”

“There’s a tornado shelter but I’m pretty sure that’s just for employees,” he answers, teasing, “We’re scum, we’d die like cattle,” Adam cries out, terrified, hiding his face against Blake’s undershirt again and shivering with another loud thunder, “Shh, shh, darling, I was kidding. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You country son of a bitch,” Adam mumbles feelingly, making him laugh, but he stops trembling and simply settles against him, mostly on top of him, “You scared the shit out of me, I hope you’re happy.”

“Very,” he grins, kissing the crown of Adam’s head as his hand drawing circles on his slim back lulls the younger man to sleep.

He feels Adam’s lips on his collarbone just as he’s closing his eyes, the younger man’s arms tightening on his sides.

He tells himself it’s a trick from his mind, an accident, anything but what he wants it to be.

***

At some point between him snarling every time Adam got anywhere near his notebooks and him not even bothering to close them whenever Adam peeked to read over his shoulder, Adam starts cupping his face and kissing his cheek or his forehead.

Blake takes that as permission to do the same and grabs Adam to smooch him whenever he can get away with it in the confines of their cell, when it’s late and dark and no one will see he actually has a big squishy heart that has glued itself back together just hearing Adam’s laughter and seeing him smile, just having someone around to take care of, someone who needs him as badly as Blake needs him to.

Adam gets brazen as time goes by, sitting on his lap and wiggling his butt against him like it’s all a game designed to get on Blake’s nerves or a test of some kind.

Whatever it is, Blake enjoys it; he holds Adam’s tiny waist and nuzzles his nape, gives him sloppy kisses to watch him squirm and wipe them off his face with a lovely wrinkle in his nose and laugh.

Adam just looks fondly at him, ducking his head when their gazes cross.

***

In public, Blake treats Adam like a convenient thing, like the willing warm hole everyone believes he is for the older man.

In their cell, he treats Adam like he’s the sweetest thing he’s ever found, like he’s brought back the warmth that was missing from his life.

In both places, Adam is the same with him; whether it’s to randy touches or kind embraces, he presses back to him for a moment only to fight him playfully the next.

In public, Blake puts Adam in his place.

In their cell, Blake struggles but lets him go when Adam pulls back.

***

“We’re halfway there, cowboy,” Adam announces out of the blue one day, “Two and a half more years and we’ll be out of here.”

He raises an imaginary glass to toast with him and Blake humors him, shaking his head but mimicking him gesture by gesture before going back to their game.

He whips Adam’s ass more often than not and today is no exception. The little guy is just too easily distracted, too restless, and he’s a sore loser but he never holds a grunge for longer than two minutes. He reminds Blake of a puppy too often.

“Will you play a song with your harmonica now, motherfucker?” he prompts, “It’s a big day for us, I think you can make an exception and get your head out of your ass for a second.”

Blake huffs, “Why is it such a big deal to you? For Christ’s sake, Adam, you’re better at it than I ever was.”

“I don’t fucking _care_ ,” Adam insists, standing up to fetch the harmonica and pressing it to Blake’s chest roughly with a hand, “Even if you can only half-ass a Christmas carol, I wanna listen to you. Please, Blake.”

Blake takes the thing but leaves it on the floor next to him. Adam invites himself to his lap, as he’s fond of doing all the time now, and glowers at him.

“Was it a gift from _her_ , is that why you won’t play it?”

They turn off the lights and Blake thinks for a moment he’s been saved by the bell but when Adam doesn’t budge and pokes him in the arm with the harmonica he groans and stands up himself.

“Why is it so goddamn important, Adam? Last time I played was over eight years ago!”

“But you kept it,” Adam says in a small voice from below, making him pause, “You kept it so it must be important to you and I’m sure you’re amazing. It's not fair that she took this from you, it’s just not.”

Blake walks back to him slowly, feeling around until he grabs Adam’s shoulders and guides him to his bunk. It’ll be a while before his eyes adjust completely to the lack of light and he doesn’t want to wait.

“You don’t sing anymore either. I know some of the stuff you write are lyrics,” Adam adds, “But I’ll take the harmonica for now. Baby steps, you know.”

“You don’t sing either,” Blake points out, defensive.

“This isn’t about me!” Adam hisses.

“Then I’m not interested,” he says simply, trying to push Adam off his bed gently.

Adam grabs his hand and pulls him so hard Blake ends up falling on top of him. He’s confused and slightly disoriented for the second it takes their teeth to clack as Adam searches for his mouth in the dark and finds it, licking his lips to press a heated kiss to his mouth that leaves Blake’s head spinning and his body scrambling to respond with the frenzy of a man that’s been waiting for this for years.

They kiss again and again as their bodies slot together and their fingers hurry to unzip their uniforms. Blake can see better now and they’re lying down with their heads in the wrong side of the bunk but he doesn’t give a damn about anything that isn’t Adam writhing and clinging to him with all limbs as if he’s scared Blake will leave if he lets go of even one inch of him.

“If you’re not playing or singing, then fuck me,” Adam whispers against his neck, nibbling the skin until Blake is groaning and rutting against him, “Fuck me like you mean it, for real this time. Let me see more of you, please, Blake. Please don’t hide anymore, not from me.”

“Adam,” he breathes out, and it sounds like it hurts, like he’s trying to say something else but that’s all he can utter.

Adam tilts his head to kiss his brow, his hands cradling Blake’s neck and his fingers entwining in the curls of his nape, “I know. This is me giving you permission, I won’t stab you, I swear.”

He laughs—it’s been so long he’d forgotten about the blade but never about what happened to Adam that first year, never about that—and glides his lips on Adam’s lovingly for a long moment, beaming when he feels Adam’s legs easing their hold around his middle and spreading invitingly for him to nestle between them.

“I’d hurt you, darling, I can’t,” he says, urgent, “We don’t have lube or anything close to it. You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“You mean something like this?” Adam counters with a smirk, producing a plastic bag from his pocket filled with what looks like shampoo, “I think we can make do, baby.”

Blake groans, wasting no time in sucking a love bite on Adam’s bony collarbone as the smaller man wriggles beneath him to strip. He complains when Adam pushes him up a little bit but goes along when he realizes Adam is trying to take off his clothes with nimble fingers and goes back down right on top of the sweet intriguing man he’s loved for years, naked as the day he was born.

He kisses and laps his way down Adam’s well-built but lean body, caressing the ink on Adam’s chest with the pads of his fingers as his mouth closes the distance to the goal standing insistently against Adam’s belly, taking Adam’s cock right into his mouth to suckle and hold as deep inside his throat as he can manage.

Adam whines loudly, rocking his hips to fuck his mouth and Blake indulges him as long as his patience allows; then he’s nosing behind his balls, pressing reverent kisses to the creased skin of Adam’s pucker, and making sure to stop and brush his inner thighs with his lips to murmur reassurances every time Adam’s breath hitches or his body tenses, his thumbs stroking Adam’s hipbones soothingly.

“Is this okay?” he tries asking, hoping Adam can listen to him even though Blake’s face is buried between his cheeks and they have to be quiet.

When Adam’s body keeps pushing into his touch he keeps going.

“Oh,” Adam sighs as Blake pushes the tip of his tongue inside him, sounding amazed but pleased, his arms spreading his legs even more to make room for him, “ _Oh_ , Blake, oh, that feels so good.”

Blake licks into him more confidently now, encouraged, and pulls quiet sighs and moans from Adam’s throat as he makes wet slurping noises against the most private place of his body.

He laps the base of his cock when he pulls out to pour shampoo on his fingers, crazy proud when two of them go in with just a little resistance that he beats by spinning them. They go right in perhaps a little too fast and Adam thrashes beneath him, swinging more than a couple of punches his way but landing zero of them as Blake rushes to calm him down.

“Adam, it’s me, open your eyes,” he smooches Adam’s cheek, nuzzling his face and pulling his fingers out of him when the smaller man keeps trembling, “It’s alright now. Come on, look at me, honey.”

Adam’s eyes are still unfocused when he does but it only takes him one blink to clear them and he nuzzles Blake’s nose, ashamed, “Sorry, I thought—that felt—“

“I’ll go slower,” Blake promises, “Or I’ll stop, whatever you want me to do. We can do something else, it’s okay.”

“I want you inside me,” Adam says, “And so do you, so do _me_ already. We’ve been doing something else for long enough.”

Blake nods lightly, keeping his forehead pressed to Adam’s brow, and pushes his fingers back in one at a time, letting Adam get used to the feeling of each of them before starting to twist them and spread them inside of him. He pours more shampoo on his hand before venturing the tip of his ring finger in, rubbing Adam’s rim until it gives way to his fingers and he can slip them in gradually.

Adam chokes on air for a moment but then Blake twists his wrist and he jolts on the mattress, his mouth hanging open as his head almost hits the metal frame of the bed.

“Do—Do that again, oh God,” he pleads, covering his mouth with a hand to muffle a long moan that the pressing of Blake’s fingers on the same spot cause when he keeps them there and Adam’s hips roll as if to get more of his hand in him instinctively.

Adam looks so pretty and wanton like this Blake wishes he could see him properly. He kisses him deeply, practically fucking his mouth as Adam stops clenching around his fingers like a vice bit by bit and moans more than moves his lips and his tongue to kiss him back, digging his fingers into Blake’s back every time he sticks his fingers inside him in the right angle.

“Adam?” he calls softly, taking out his fingers slowly and squinting at Adam to see him better in the dark, “Do you still want me to—“

“Nnnghh,” it’s all Adam replies, lifting his legs and holding them up spread-eagled for Blake to get a good view of his cheeks and the glistening hole between them just waiting to be filled.

He fumbles to slick himself up, guiding the tip of his cock to start thrusting in painstakingly slowly as his other hand cups Adam’s nape so he stays looking up at Blake. He has no idea how he holds back from coming just by having the head inside because it feels _that_ good and he’s had no one in so long he’s forgotten how much he’s missed it.

“It’s me, Adam,” he whispers every time Adam’s gaze gets distant and his body stiffens, “It’s me, just me.”

“It hurts,” Adam cries, keeping Blake right where he is halfway in when he tries to pull out with both hands on the taller man’s ass, “Just—Just keep going, I can take it.”

“Put your legs on my shoulders,” he instructs softly and Adam hiccups as he complies, whimpering when that gets Blake deeper inside him, “That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart. Talk me through it, how does it feel?”

“ _Full_ ,” Adam grits out just as Blake begins to lose it and his hips move on their own accord, fucking Adam shallowly as pleasure builds in his lower belly, quick and overwhelming, “Hot.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Adam—Adam!“ it doesn’t take more than a few thrusts for him to spill right inside of his brand new and long awaited lover and he stills in mortification for the long moment it takes Adam to realize what happened and start giggling.

“Poor old man,” Adam teases him fondly, breathless, “My ass is too good for you to handle, huh?”

“Cocky little shit,” Blake grunts, adjusting his knees on the bunk, but then the joke’s on Adam because Blake is still hard and he’s able to move once the initial oversensitivity of his climax ebbs a little, “Who’s an old man now?”

“Ah—ah! Blake!” the way’s smoother now, his hips more confident, and Adam all but melts underneath him, arching and moaning loudly even under the hand Blake has no choice but to put over his mouth, babbling and pleading non-stop for him to fuck him harder as if Blake wasn’t giving him all he’s got already, making the bunk beds creak so much he’s afraid they’ll end up sleeping on the floor and getting a dressing-down in the morning for breaking the prison’s property.

He keeps grunting something wild, hardly recognizing himself in his own ears, and bites his tongue as much as he can against every sound, using the tightness with which he’s holding himself back to slam into Adam with more strength because every time he does Adam just feels better and tighter around him and he just can’t get enough of him.

Adam lets go of his back eventually, holding on to the poles of the bed to press back onto Blake’s cock and the southerner lets go of his neck in favor of getting better leverage to fuck him.

Adam comes coiling like a spring about to let loose, kicking his legs and hitting the top bunk hard as Blake’s hands move to his hips to keep him in place. He’s thankfully a lot quieter as Blake chases his second release of the night inside him, making pleasing little sounds each and every time their skin slap together and then Blake is coming as suddenly as he did the first time; groaning as he seems to fill Adam up with loads and loads of come.

“I wish you could fuck me again right now, fuck,” Adam mumbles, his legs falling messily from Blake’s shoulders as his cock twitches on his belly, eager to get up again.

Blake takes his sprawled legs as the invitation it is to resume fucking him with his fingers, committing to memory how Adam moans in startled glee and touches himself as he moves his hips up towards his own fist and down to Blake’s long and thick fingers.

It’s a hot wet mess in Adam’s hole and Blake relishes every bit of this too even though he’s way past spent, barely blinking to watch as much as he can of his seed dripping out of Adam as his lean body takes his hand keenly.

Adam’s second orgasm seems to do the impossible and finally burns every bit of extra energy the little guy had in him so Blake picks him up and spoons with him in the right side of his bed until morning when Adam keeps pushing his ass against Blake’s groin and gets the older man to shove him under him and stick his cock in him again, thanking his lucky stars Adam is still loose enough for the fast pace to be good for him too.

The guard comes to fetch them as they’re still in the mist of it but keeps walking after noticing what they’re up to, letting them be and opening the cell next to them.

Blake is glad he at least got the sheet over them before falling asleep the night before. His hips keep rocking mindlessly, exhibitionist show not registering one bit in his brain as Adam’s ass clamps beautifully around him and fights him every time he pulls out to slide right back in.

Adam undulates his hips in counterpoint to his, pushing his perfect little butt right against his hips whenever Blake is thrusting in, and together they create a rhythm so easy to follow Blake wonders if they’re ever going to be able to stop.

***

It seems like fate that they’re given back their freedom the same day, years later.

Blake gazes fondly at his boyfriend, not caring who sees them anymore, and makes sure Adam’s ears are snug under his beanie before kissing his temple and taking his hand.

Adam snuggles into him, squeezing his hand as his body practically vibrates to go out running through the gates that are finally open to them.

The warden smiles at them, handing Blake both of their belongings.

“You two keep your noses clean,” he says, “I don’t want you back in my prison or anyone else’s.”

Adam nods, already tugging Blake towards the exit of this bleak place that’s been their home for too damn long and the entrance to the rest of their lives.

“Take care, man,” Adam says as goodbye, saluting Daly with his free hand, “Thanks for everything.”

Blake gives him just a nod of acknowledgment and gratitude but that seems enough. Their relationship always worked around Blake keeping his head down and the warden giving him whatever he legally could to appease him.

He plays the harmonica for Adam as they wait for a bus to California, improvising a tune that starts miserable but turns tender and heartwarming soon.

There aren’t enough notes in the tiny instrument to express how thankful he is of having Adam by his side properly but Adam seems to like it just fine, kissing him reverently as a few tears spill from the corner of his eyes and his arms cling to his neck.

“Happy birthday, dickhead,” he says, bubbly, and Blake frowns but shakes his head in amusement when he catches Adam checking every little card and piece of paper in his wallet, the sneaky little bastard must’ve started as a pickpocket, that wouldn’t surprise him one bit, “We’re gonna work in your communications skills, you know, it’s not okay for me to find out about it reading your fucking driver’s license.”

“I was gonna tell you, I swear,” just maybe not this year, Blake thinks, he wanted to dedicate the whole day to Adam and whatever he wanted to do now that they could actually do anything they wanted.

Going back to his hometown is just the beginning.

Adam sighs, “You’re so full of shit,” he says, exasperated, but his eyes are warm and he lets it go when Blake starts playing again to get a better feel of the melody he just created.

His boyfriend watches him the whole time and yanks him into the bus when it arrives to the stop.

Blake leaves behind him everything that once defined him and doesn’t look back, his arm keeping Adam close to his side.

He has everything he needs, right here.

**Author's Note:**

> Links to the harmonica covers I referenced here (in order):  
> [Payphone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APgYhRwkef8)  
> [Nothing else matters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwCDG1OiiyA)  
> [Kiss the rain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQ6S2VqRTsA)


End file.
